“Why?”
“Because then I should be sure of not being eaten alive!”
“Very good. Major,” said Paganel; “but suppose they cooked you alive?”
“The fact is,” answered the Major, “I would not give half-a-crown for the choice!”
“Well, McNabbs, if it will comfort you—you may as well be told—the New Zealanders do not eat flesh without cooking or smoking it. They are very clever and experienced in cookery. For my part, I very much dislike the idea of being eaten! The idea of ending one’s life in the maw of a savage! bah!”
“The conclusion of all,” said John Mangles, “is that we must not fall into their hands. Let us hope that one day Christianity will abolish all these monstrous customs.”
“Yes, we must hope so,” replied Paganel; “but, believe me, a savage who has tasted human flesh, is not easily persuaded to forego it. I will relate two facts which prove it.”
“By all means let us have the facts, Paganel,” said Glenarvan.
“The first is narrated in the chronicles of the Jesuit Society in Brazil. A Portuguese missionary was one day visiting an old Brazilian woman who was very ill. She had only a few days to live. The Jesuit inculcated the truths of religion, which the dying woman accepted, without objection. Then having attended to her spiritual wants, he bethought himself of her bodily needs, and offered her some European delicacies. ‘Alas,’ said she, ‘my digestion is too weak to bear any kind of food. There is only one thing I could fancy, and nobody here could get it for me.’ ‘What is it?’ asked the Jesuit. ‘Ah! my son,’ said she, ‘it is the hand of a little boy! I feel as if I should enjoy munching the little bones!’”
“Horrid! but I wonder is it so very nice?” said Robert.